


once more to see you

by clenchedhands



Series: KenHina [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Falling In Love, Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, Post-Canon, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 13:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12583352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clenchedhands/pseuds/clenchedhands
Summary: Sometimes, just sometimes, he catches himself thinking that he would rather have never met him at all. He doesn’t mean it though.If he had never known him, well, then he would have never known love either.(Please read the notes.)





	once more to see you

**Author's Note:**

> This fic fits the same narrative of the ones before it (The Stages of a Dying Sun). It is essentially an alternate ending. The style is much different, though. For the full effect, you can listen to this song on which the title is based off. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eocAzsu29Tc
> 
> It can be read on it's own, but I encourage you to read the other pieces as well, if you want.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: death, suicide, and self harm. if you think this will trigger you, or make you upset, please do not read it.
> 
> anyway! this is the product of quite a lot of effort, and im kinda proud of it? i hope u like it too.

When they met, Kenma was convinced the world had stopped spinning. It must have, he tells himself. Why else would he have been so off balance? And so, it began - friendship, tentative and sugar coated. 

People always said Hinata was like the sun. And Kenma agrees, to an extent. Yes, his smile was millions of kilowatts bright, yes, he drew everything and everyone in, yes, standing near him for too long will give you a blush akin to a bad sunburn. But for Kenma, there’s something more, something hidden. He hasn’t quite figured it out yet, but it tastes like a vast galaxy; expanding, expanding, expanding, and finally snapping like an old rubber-band. He isn’t sure why, but the taste is bitter-sweet and it tingles on his tongue.

 

Later he remembers. Artificial sweeteners have a bitter aftertaste. (The sun causes cancer.)

 

* * *

 

When he plays against Hinata, the mountains inside him shake, the valleys flood. He pushes himself more, setting the ball again and again. Toss, smack, toss, smack, toss, smack, toss, smack. This is what they live for; sneakers skidding across the court and sweat sliding down their faces. When the team lines up perfectly, a symphony is born, and each team member basks in the music. And how could Kenma not love it when the boy across the net had the most beautiful solo?

(He won’t admit it, not for another few months anyway, but Kenma is glad Kuroo dragged him along to all these practices.)

Their friendship is like a well. The well is bottomless and with each sip the courage of every tide and current pours into their veins. This boundless energy, this swell of entire existences aligning - it’s too much. He can’t possibly hope to keep up. For a moment, he is afraid that he will be left behind so sweep up the ashes. But Hinata is there, is constant. 

“I’ll always be your friend, Kenma!” His voice is citrus, it matches his hair. Kenma feels its sting on his chapped lips.

They exchange numbers. Kenma’s phone has a constant string of notifications form then on.

 

**Hinata** **☆ﾐ** **:** [11:11 am]

Heyy!!! Its me!! Hinata!! 

( ≧ ▽≦ )/

Ooooh make a wish!

**Kenma:** [11:11 am]

hi

And what?

**Hinata** **☆ﾐ** **:** [11:11 am]

11:11!!!

How is class going for you?!? 

The days seem so long here! I wish you could toss to me again!!!

**Kenma:** [11:12]

oh. I missed it.

class is okay.

 

me too.

 

* * *

 

The training camp feels like a liminal space. It hangs heavy, suspended in time; like the Dali piece Kenma studied in his art history class. The only time that matters is in game, when they are sleeping, and when they are eating. How things are in the outside world are irrelevant. The strangest thing, however, is that they can spend time together, outside of the setting of a court. They can sit idly in the evening and chat, no net between them, no scores to keep track of.

Day one comes to an end, and the food is laid out. You’d think no one had eaten for a week straight before tonight. Kenma sits down in the grass, away from the main mass of rambunctious teenagers, biting a piece of watermelon.

“Hey, nice job today! You were all UWAH!” Kenma looks up to see Hinata grinning down at him, one arm waving around while the other precariously balances a plate. “Can I sit with you?”

Kenma still has watermelon in his mouth, so he nods. Hinata sits beside him and their knees knock together. Hinata speaks rapid fire between bites, chattering on about mundane things. Kenma finds himself staring, and wondering how a boy like that could exist. His face is flushed with the excitement of being around all his competitors, bright with happiness that he is learning how to become stronger. Vaguely, Kenma wonders how his hair is so fluffy, even after he was sweating all day.

“I’m so glad I get to grow with you, Kenma. One day, we’re gonna beat you guys!” Kenma snaps out of his thoughts and smiles at this, pink tinting his cheeks. This is when he realizes that Hinata is far too close. Hinata’s hand reaches out, his thumb swiping up juice that spilled onto Kenma’s chin. Their eyes meet, gold and brown.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Hey! If I win, you owe me a meat bun!”

“It's a bet.”

 

Kenma is seventeen when he learns the true meaning of the word ‘radiant’.

 

* * *

 

He wishes time really had stopped at that camp. But it didn’t.

 

**Kenma:** [11:11 pm]

hey shouyo

i know I texted you nonstop yesterday

im sorry if Im bothering you

…

i cant lie to you,

i havent been doing too well

not since then

never since then

**kenma:** [2:56 am]

i dont know if you can hear me, wherever you are

but if you can, i wish you were here

i miss you

 

**Kenma:** [3:21 am]

a lot.

 

* * *

 

There are few memories as sharp and as visceral as the one he recalls today, six years, three months, and four days after it happened. The brain has a funny way of skewing the thoughts you wish to keep as true to the actual event as possible. 

It was April, and the air was fragrant and light. Kuroo was visiting from college during his spring break, and he wanted to, in his words, “Bother the crap out of the remaining Karasuno team members who know who I am.” Kenma went along, partially because he knew no one quite knows how to rile someone up like Kuroo does, and it would be entertaining to watch, but mostly to see his favorite player.

Kenma ends up at Hinata’s house, while Kuroo is off with the other former third years, who were all also back from their respective Universities. He re-lives that evening with a hitched breath and silent tears. He should have done more. They are playing video games on the floor of Hinata’s room. Hinata wanted a Smash Brothers competition, and who was Kenma to say no to such an endearing plead? Hinata, who was always a very tactile person, pushed Kenma when he lost for the eighth time in a row, whining loudly, “You could have gone easy on me!”

Kenma took himself by surprise by pushing back. He promptly remembered why he doesn’t do that, though, when his arm gets caught in a cable and he tumbles straight into Hinata, shoving his shirt up and exposing a hip. For a moment, they are laughing. Then Kenma stops. They look almost like stretch marks, like lightning against tanned skin. Almost. Kenma lifts the shirt more, and traces them with his finger. His mind has stopped at this point. He knows those aren’t stretch marks. Stretch marks don’t line up perfectly, like tallies on a chalkboard. They don’t spell out the word ‘pathetic’ tiny and neat, in between two lines.

When their eyes meet, Kenma’s are ablaze. They soften the second he sees the fear resting deep and ingrained in the warm brown of Hinata’s. They are frozen. Kenma unfreezes first, and he knows he is overstepping more than just a line in the sand when he does this, but he grips Hinata’s arm, pushes the short sleeve up to his shoulder and looks more closely that he ever has before. More of them. Faded, almost unnoticeable by the naked eye.

Hinata jerks back. The warmth leaves him. He looks cold, he looks guarded, he looks… vacant. The image never leaves Kenma’s head.

Kenma pushes down his rising panic, it is the first time to date he was able to stop a panic attack dead in its tracks. He wishes he could steal the pain from Hinata’s small body. He gives him a look of deliberate determination, eyes locked as he raises Hinata’s wrist to his mouth, kissing it. Hinata shudders. 

 

Kenma tries, and tries, and tries to save him. But that’s the tricky thing about humans. You can’t.

 

* * *

 

There’s something to be said about being with someone who makes your anxiety melt away. Kenma isn’t sure how to say it.

He never liked the beach. No, he never liked the crowds, or the sand, or the hot sun beating down on his shoulders. But today, he was enamored. It was the end of Kenma’s high school career, and college seemed to be barreling at him at a million miles an hour. He counted his blessings; Kuro and Yaku were already attending the University he enrolled in, which meant he could avoid dorms altogether and room with them. Small miracles.

He will be leaving soon, and so Hinata dragged him out to the ocean for the weekend. Kenma’s excuse was fresh air, a new perspective. He knew that wasn’t it, though. He would let Hinata drag him to the ends of the earth.

They hold hands. Their fingers tangle, slightly wet from sea water, as they walk slowly right on the edge of the water. It laps at their toes, sparkling in the early evening sunset. The beach is no longer as crowded, and the wind was bordering on too cold to be only wearing swim trunks. They have been holding hands a lot lately. Three weeks ago, when Hinata had surprised him by showing up at his graduation, hands clasped as Hinata excitedly congratulated him. Yesterday as they made their way through the beach-side town, Hinata pointing out cute antique stores, only separating their hands when they buy ice cream. Kenma reveled in the feeling of their palms pressed together.

They continue their walk. Hinata is speaking. Kenma is only half listening, too busy trying to resist the urge to kiss him. In the back of his mind, he thinks, _If I don’t do it now, will I ever be able to?_

“… Kenma?” His eyes are wide and earnest. Kenma swallows.

Kenma sees the words being formed. His gaze lingers on Hinata’s lips a beat too long. “Hm? Sorry, I was dazing off a bit.”

“I was just asking if you wanted to head back. It’s getting a bit cold.” Hinata squeezed his hand. The sky behind him was turning rich purple with streaks of light pink. Hinata stood like a beacon of light against the darkening sky. He wanted to kiss him so much, he wanted to feel the warmth, he wanted to show how he felt, he—

So he did. He stepped forward, pressing their lips together. Hinata froze briefly, enough for Kenma to get a bit worried, before he brought his free hand up to cup Kenma’s cheek. He kissed back. 

It felt like meeting him for the first time all over again. Heart pounding, ears ringing, the only coherent thought being, _how can someone be so beautiful?_

Kenma still hasn’t figured that one out yet. He never will.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, just sometimes, he catches himself thinking that he would rather have never met him at all. He doesn’t mean it, but for one selfish moment, he truly wishes it. If he hadn’t met him, at the very least he would have been spared such an overwhelming amount of pain. 

And then he remembers. The memories flood his mind, like they always do - all at once, the unending tide of the ocean, the gravitational pull of the universe.

 

If he had never known him, well, then he would have never known love either.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until they return to the little hot spring hostel until he realized that he was stupidly oblivious. Booking a weekend to spend at the ocean, with just one other person screams ‘this is what couples do, not friends’. Or at least, thats what it screams when you finally put the pieces together and see that your friend was hitting on you pretty hard and you were just too much of a dumbass to notice.

Kenma vocalizes this. Hinata laughs at him.

 

* * *

_Hinata is sobbing, the type that snakes up your throat and tries to strangle you. There’s red everywhere, burning everywhere, despair everywhere_.  _The worst part, he thinks, is the way Kenma is looking at him._ _There’s no pity, and only a little bit of sympathy. No, there’s only anguish. He would have preferred pity, at least then he could be bitter about it. Kenma’s jaw sets, and pulls Hinata up, bringing him to the bathroom. His touch is firm, but reassuring, as he wets a washcloth with warm water, carefully wiping off the blood. His movements are methodical, measured._

_Kenma is silent the entire time, all the way up until when he tucks Hinata into the covers before sliding in next to him._

_“You,” he says, voice iron-cast and low, “are perfect.”_

_Hinata hangs on those words like a lifeline._

 

(Noose, Kenma now thinks, those words were a noose.)

 

* * *

  

Kenma hates cliches. Generally, he thinks things like that are too good to be true. This isn’t surprising, considering his rather cynical disposition. Shouyo absolutely _loves_ cliches. Teddy bears on Valentine’s, a candle lit romantic dinner, stargazing while listening to some indie band Yamaguchi recommended him last week - you name it, Hinata loves it. So, it is to no one’s surprise when Kenma comes home to a trail of rose petals leading to their bedroom. 

His first reaction, which is again so very typically Kenma, is to be nervous. They’ve been dating for six months, and God knows they’ve done their fair share of getting it on with each other. It was their six month anniversary, and Kenma had said he didn’t really want anything, just to spend the evening with him. He should have known Hinata would pull something like this. He opens the door to the bed room, to see Hinata nonchalantly laying on the bed in only a satin robe. Briefly, he wonders where the hell his boyfriend picked up something like that. The ruffles were a bit overkill. The mood lighting was a bit overkill. Kenma just right out laughs at him.

“Hey!” Hinata pouts, overdramatic and ridiculous, “I put a lot of effort into this, and you’re laughing at me? Rude.”

Kenma covers his mouth, still giggling, and replies, “It’s- it’s not that I don’t appreciate this, I really do I just- “

Hinata is trying really hard to keep a straight face and rebuff him, but it isn’t working too well.

“C’mere,” Kenma puts his hand out to Hinata, walking into the room. He obediently gets up and Kenma pulls him into a kiss. “Thank you, really.”

“Hmph,” Hinata is still pouting, but his eyes don’t look the least bit upset. “You know what, maybe I don’t even want you to fuck me anymore.”

Kenma arches an eyebrow. Hinata’s dick which was pressed right against his thigh, said otherwise. “Oh? Then what’s this?” Kenma shifts his thigh, pressing it into Hinata, who’s breath stutters. 

“That,” the shorter boy wraps his hands around Kenma’s neck, “Is not fair.”

“Mhm,” That was the only response he got before Kenma leaned in, kissing his mouth, then his jaw, then his neck, coming to stop right before his ear, nipping. “Life isn't fair.”

Not totally tactless, Kenma has the decency to help make their night long and sweet. His kisses are slow, and attentive, leaving no place untouched. He lavished his boyfriend, taking the time to kiss everywhere - both feather light and sensual, and hot and heavy, sharp with teeth. Perhaps patience isn’t a virtue, Hinata thinks, as he’s stopped from coming again. At the hour and a half mark, Hinata resorts to begging. And with moans that sweet, Kenma couldn't possibly refuse him. They come together, and its the toe curling, full body, the-neighbors-definitely-heard-that kind of spectacular. 

 

This may not be the thing Kenma misses the most (it’s up there, though), but it did solidify one thing in him mind for him; do not be fooled. If you think it is too good to be true _it is._

 

* * *

 

He should have seen it. It kills him, every time he looks back on those last few months before it happened. He should have seen it in the dead, absent look in his eyes. He should have seen it in the slight twist of his mouth that kept his smiles from being as broad as they once were.

Kenma supposes that Hinata got good at hiding in plain sight.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Kuroo asks, “Are you guys official?”

Kenma doesn’t look up from his game. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.” 

“Finally. It was painful to see the way you two looked at each other when one of you was turned away.”

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

Kenma is twenty three when he learns the meaning of the word ‘helpless’.

It has been three impossibly long years. Kenma is outside of the library for once, walking through a crowd of people to get to the coffee shop across the street. Lately, his anxiety has been manageable. No more panicking just at the sight of so many people flooding the sidewalks. He is focussed on his phone, scrolling through social media sites, only looking up to make sure he doesn’t crash into anyone. When he finally does look up, it’s to cross the street. He looks up just as the light flashes red, telling him to stop, or he’ll be run over. Annoyed, Kenma turns back to his phone —

Orange hair. A brilliant smile. A boyish laugh.

Kenma stutters forward, sprinting across the road, ignoring the cars that nearly slam into him, ignoring the yelling of drivers cursing at him, ignoring the rational part of his brain that says, _you idiot, that isn’t him._ He calls out, frantic and scared. Terrified. 

A ginger head turns and Kenma chokes, praying like he’s never prayed before, please let the past three years just have been a dream, please, please. 

Kenma was never very religious anyway. 

The panic hits him, a freight train without breaks. It isn’t him. It never was. 

Kenma enters the coffee shop, embodying calmness himself - on the outside, that is. He goes into the bathroom, thanking God (yeah, right, like He’d help at this point) that it is a single person room. The calm breaks, the dam tearing apart, a deep rift cut through his heart. He slumps on the floor, not caring about the slight smell of piss. For a moment, he can’t cry, only dry choked out breaths escaping from his mouth. Then it comes, like a waterfall after heavy rain. He weeps, water crashing.

When his sobs subside to a moderate stream and he can see again, he pulls out his phone, hands trembling like a level four earth quake.

 

**Kenma:** [4:36 pm]

im so sorry

im so sorry Im sorry imsos sorry Im so sorry

i love oyu so much

why

w hy did you bhave to leave m e

…

please come back I dont know what to do anymore

it hurts, shouyo, so much.

 

**Kenma:** [4:41 pm]

I will always love you.

 

* * *

 

_Kenma knocks, but no one answers. Frowning, he twists the knob to find the door open, and calls out Hinata’s name. The past three months had been hectic, so he decided to stop by to surprise his boyfriend. They hadn’t seen each other in person for so long, and Kenma could tell Hinata wasn’t feeling his best. He steps inside, tucking his spare key back into his pocket. The dorm is dead silent. He wonders where his roommates are, navigating around old food containers and sprawling beaten-up furniture. He knocks on Hinata’s door. No answer. He opens it, Hinata’s name on the tip of his tongue._

_Kenma doesn’t really remember what happens next. He knows he called an ambulance, shortly followed by calling Kuroo, who didn’t pick up until the seventh time. He knows there was blood, so much blood,_ **_how could someone that small produce that much blood?_  ** _He knows he threw up until nothing was left in his stomach, not even bile. He knows that he sat in a room at the police station, and he knows that he answered their questions without hesitation. He knows he hears the word ‘suicide’. He knows he screams until his voice gives out._

_He doesn’t know how he got home._

_He doesn’t know why he never cried, not a single tear, not even watery eyes._

 

_He doesn’t know what he will do without the sun, without the universe._

 

* * *

 

 

They are on the top of the world. Sure, it wasn’t technically an official match, but it had that same feeling, that electricity each person felt when they enter a court before a big game. The match ends, and although most of them are rusty, Kenma from one year without regular intense practice, Yaku from two, it feels the same as when they were young and vibrant. Kenma is, by nature, a very competitive person. But today he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about losing, not when Hinata rushed over to him, sweaty and breathless, planting a kiss on his mouth.

Kenma laughs, kissing him back. He doesn’t ever want to forget the feeling of kissing someone you love while laughing.

“You did it, you beat us.” Kenma smiled wide, still breathing hard. “Too bad it took you so long.”

“Hey! A win is a win!” He leaned in again, kissing Kenma’s cheek, then his nose, then his mouth, giggling all the while. “Oh, yeah! You owe me a meat bun.”

Kenma wasn’t one to back out of a bet.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s on the seven year mark when things begin to fade. He should be relieved, he should be grateful that finally he might get some peace. He isn’t.

He visits the grave, surprised to see he isn’t the only one there. Kageyama, Sugawara, Daichi, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Hitoka are there, already spread out with a meal and fresh flowers. Their smiles are sad when they wave him over. He can’t remember the last time he had seen that many former Karasuno volleyball players in one place.  They speak softly and intermittently, molasses slow and sweet. Kenma barely says anything the whole time, thankful that none of them were pushing him to. The sun sets slowly, as if it knows they don’t want to leave, don’t want to forget.

Somehow, he finds himself laughing gently along with the others, reminiscing about how ridiculous they were in high school and university. He is happy to hear about where they all are in life. Suga is a neurologist, Daichi is a physical therapist who coaches on the side, Kageyama and Yachi are executives (law and labor management, respectively), Yamaguchi is a pediatrician, and Tsukishima is a film director.

Kenma isn’t sure whats worse; the fact that his laughter is genuine, or the fact that Hinata’s grave seems to blend into the scenery around them, not forgotten, but not entirely present.

It is silent for a while and Kageyama reaches out, squeezes his hand, his expression melancholy, but hopeful. Kenma remembers, Hinata wasn’t just his. He belonged to everyone and everyone belonged to him.

He sighs, and the others look at him, a silent _me too. I miss him too._

 

* * *

 

A few things about the funeral:

This is the first time Kenma cries about what happened. He physically can’t look at the casket without his brain filling with static and short circuiting. He has one of the longest conversations with Kageyama he’s ever had and they both forget their rocky past in favor of comforting each other. In a way, it’s as if Hinata is saying, _I can’t be there anymore, so you need to be there for each other_. 

Sometimes he is so caught up in his own feelingings, it’s almost as if he was the only one who cared for Hinata. He knows this isn’t true at all, and he will be reminded this often. The funeral was the first day he was reminded, as he hugged Hinata’s parents, sobbing, unable to speak a single word of condolences. They hug back fiercely, and tell him he’s welcome over any time. Kenma sees where Hinata’s got his hugging abilities from.

When he is finally able to speak, he leans down addressing Natsu with a steady voice, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Her voice is unsteady, wobbly from crying.

“For being his amazing sister. He talked of you often. I know that where ever he is, he’s smiling with you.” Kenma smiles in spite of eveything, and Natsu hugs him rather tight for such a young girl.

Two weeks later he takes Hinata’s parents up on the offer. They have dinner, talking about everything; Hinata, the weather, college life, grief counseling. It feels like a step towards closure, towards wholeness.

He thanks Hinata for giving him another family.

  

* * *

They are nineteen and twenty and the world is theirs for the taking. If opportunities were fruit, they were ripe and overflowing with sweetness, hanging low on the branches of their own personal orchard. Hinata got offered by many universities scholarships for volleyball. Most of his friends stayed in Miyagi, but a few ventured off to Tokyo with him. He chose a campus close to Kenma, equal parts excited and nervous to be living in the city. 

When Kenma hears the term ‘the prime of you life’, he thinks of this all too short year and four months. They are definitely busy, balancing school, and work, and what little leisure time they had. Somehow they managed to squeeze in coffee dates, and nights in. Hinata took it upon himself to organize a huge reunion, just under a year after his class graduated. Kenma still isn’t sure how he got literally everyone to go. He was honestly astounded, every former Nekoma, Karasuno, Aobajosai, Shiratorizawa, and Fukurodani players where there; plus a bunch of people Kenma didn’t recognize.

True to his nature, Kenma was wary about such a gigantic party. But he went and after was glad he did, despite the horrible hangover he had the next day (although, even that was okay since he woke up to Hinata making his breakfast). In the end, almost everyone ended up totally wasted, and all of them definitely did embarrassing things they hoped they wouldn't remember the next day. (Vaguely, he recalls Suga doing too many body shots, Bokuto and Kuroo making out, an impromptu arm wrestling tournament that Shimizu won - how she was so jacked, no one knew -  and Yamaguchi dancing on a table.)

It was surreal. Everyone had gone their separate days, yet were all so familiar. They soaked it in, the nostalgia, the camaraderie, the feeling of belonging. 

That was one of the last times he saw Hinata laugh with sincerity.

 

* * *

 

It is Kenma’s thirtieth birthday when he send his final text to Hinata’s long dead phone number.

 

**Kenma:** [8:46 am]

Shouyo, my beautiful sun.

Thank you. For everything.

I have to go now, for good, dragging it on like this hasn’t been healthy.

I think you were trying to tell me that the whole time, I was just too stubborn to listen.

I will never stop loving you, b ut if there’s one thing you taught me, it’s that people have an endless capacity for love. That I can still love even with half my heart missing.

I hope that where ever you are, there are plenty of meat buns, and always someone to toss to you.

Thank you. I love you so much. 

 

Goodbye.

 

* * *

It is a Sunday morning, light streaming through the curtains in Hinata’s house. This was their second month of dating, first sleepover as a couple. Hours go by with their arms wrapped around each other in bed, punctuated by the occasional kiss.

He whispers, “Kenma. I love you.”

Kenma’s eyes are wide, he feels like a galaxy poured into his heart. Neither of them had said this yet, and here it was like a precious gem glittering in the sunlight.

There is something so perfect in that moment, indescribable by anything other than the word  _belonging._

 

“I love you too, Shouyo.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi my name is jc and i have fallen down the very very very very very deep hole that is death fics. please leave ur message after the tone.
> 
> thank you so much if you read this, this was one of the most emotionally taxing pieces ive ever written and probably one of my favorite pieces so far???
> 
> wanna tell me how much i suck on another platform? check out my tumblr @clenchedhands
> 
> also this was somewhat inspired by the way user daisuga on here writes their fics, check them out they are beautiful.


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